


respawn.error.exe

by brunchclub



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Phil Watson, Hurt Technoblade, Hurt Wilbur Soot, Physical hurt/comfort, foreshadowing? in my fanfic? more likely than you’d expect, no beta we die like men, no ships this is not a ship piece I am going to make a threatening comment about shipping people, or I guess we die like she/them, or your pronouns, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, you’re valid <3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brunchclub/pseuds/brunchclub
Summary: A quick, devastated glance told him all he needed to know.He screamed his brothers name back at the crumbling building, voice hardly carrying even as the rumble subsided, structure collapsed.—Sleepy Bois Inc. takes a family trip into the Nether for gold. More specifically, gold from an abandoned Bastion. When the Bastion turns out to be not-so-abandoned, a member of the family is left behind in the Nether.When found, it turns out that not all things can be fixed so easily as with a healing potion.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Familial relationships only-
Comments: 207
Kudos: 738





	1. screw the nether

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I hope you enjoy! This is my first time writing SBI fanfic I hope it’s okay!! :D

“You’re so stupid!”

“ _ Schewpid _ .” Techno retorted, casually twirling his sword in the air with a sharp  _ swsh. _

“Woah, now, we aren’t making fun of accents, are we?” Wilbur spoke up, catching up to the bickering two with a few bounds. The Englishman released one of his hands from where he’d been holding them behind his back to push the mass of brown hair that had been, as always, falling into his eyes. Even the beanie he wore didn’t help much to keep the bangs from obscuring his vision. “In that case, I’m sorry to say that you’re outnumbered!”

“Oh no.” The hybrid deadpanned. “Whatever will I do.”

“Whatever, let’s just get to the portal already.” Tommy huffed. His excitement was barely hidden, if you could even call it that; there was a slight bounce in his stride, jostling his own sword against his back. Not the gold of his older brother’s, but a sturdy, long-lasting iron. Phil had insisted that it was the best choice in the long-run; he didn’t want it breaking mid-fight. That was something Tommy scoffed at in private whenever he felt particularly irritated with the father figure.

“Patience, Tommy,” Philza ruffled his hair teasingly, which the youngest shook off with a huff. “we’re nearly there. Won’t kill you to wait a minute. And boys— be good to the child.” He grinned.

“I’m  _ taller _ than you—“ said child squawked, though his protests were quickly smothered by the laughter of his elders.

“Ta daaa.” The hybrid deadpanned, free hand gesturing towards the center of the clearing they’d found themselves in. “We’re here.”

The Nether portal shone as though with condensation, a light purple fog obscuring the crumbling edges. Bits and bobs of the Nether had seeped out of it, staining the ground otherworldly hues. It was a fair walk from their house, something the youngest brother complained about often, though the reason was often cited as it being made from a ruin. And of course, to prevent the stray hoglin, a beast he’d only heard of from the stories of Techno and Phil.

“Let’s go already!” Tommy went to run into the frame of the portal, only to be yanked backwards by the cloth of his shirt, hanging from Techno’s grip like a kitten by its scruff. 

The two experienced explorers exchanged glances before Phil finally spoke up.

“Okay, first we gotta go over the rules.” He began firmly. “One. No running off. You follow me, Techno, and Will, in that order,” when it seemed as though Tommy was about to interject, the pig hybrid silenced him with a glare. “you haven’t been here before. I’ve been the most, Techno knows what I know, and Will’s been here at least a few times. Two. No picking fights. We leave the piglins alone, and try to attack as little of anything as possible. And finally, three. You do what we tell you to. If we say to run, you run. Got it?” He adjusted the long sleeves of his robe, sending a meaningful look towards the other blonde.

“Yessss, Phil, I got it. Let’s go!” Gaining momentum in a single swing, he launched as Techno released him, stumbling into the portal frame. He grinned, sticking two thumbs out as his image wavered and faded.

Wilbur and Phil only exchanged matching grins as Techno groaned, all three squishing themselves into the weeping purple, before their images too, disappeared.

—

“Holy  _ shit _ .” Tommy exhaled, looking over the Nether. His eyes watered at the heat, reflecting the blistering Nether wasteland even as he coughed into his shirtsleeve. “I repeat; holy  _ shit. _ ” 

“Think we heard you the first time!” Wilbur slapped him on the back, only succeeding in getting the younger to let out a small ‘ _ oof’ _ of surprise. “Crazy, huh?” He sighed.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go get what we came here for.” Techno grouched. “Being here makes me antsy.”

“He’s right. Come on, boys, let’s go.” Phil tugged his fingers to his hand in a ‘come along’ gesture, though not unkindly. He waited until they’d passed him, following Techno like a pair of ducklings until he joined the line, exhaling with a soft smile to the dimension’s ceiling.

—

“It’s  _ hot _ .” Tommy groaned. He’d untied his bandana from his neck, stuffing it into his pocket instead. The blonde had taken to ineffectively fanning himself with a piece of wrinkled paper he’d found in his bag, slumped over while he walked.

Techno sent an amused glance his way. He’d been whistling lowly, used to the heat, even under his cloak. 

“Agreed.” Wilbur moaned his displeasure, wiping at his forehead with his beanie. “Phil, why aren’t you dying; more importantly, why aren’t you  _ flying.  _ Surely that’s bloody faster.” He pleaded.

“It’s all updrafts, warm air. It’s hard enough to land against the drafts without worrying about you going ‘splat’ against the Nether’s walls.” He responded, equally as unbothered as Techno about the heat. It seemed pleasant on his wings, based on how the white, grey speckled feathers spread and flexed away from the muscle.

“Doesn’t matter much,” Techno interjected. “We’re here.”

The Bastion loomed over them, and Tommy wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. Parts of it were obscured by the netherrack, but the blackstone still stuck out against the basalt and the red stone. It crawled with activity, piglins scurrying over the stone. Some were packing gold pieces into the blackstone, admiring the glisten. Others were carrying loads of the brick, repairing a crumbled wall.

“Is this inactive?” Wilbur wondered aloud, staring up at the structure. It was far busier than any of the sketches he’d seen of them; larger, too. 

“Never seen an active one. Might just be busy.” The hybrid mumbled, examining the building. He sniffed at the air, wrinkling his nose against the sulfur. “Phil?” He looked to the eldest for his decision.

“Hmm,” he hummed, indecisive. The blonde itched at his stubble, before nodding to himself. He turned to the three, setting one hand on the sword at his side. “Okay,” he began, already smiling in placation towards the two least experienced. “Techno and I, we’ll go in there, while you two stay out here. Might be active; Wil’s in charge, got it?”

Wilbur saluted with two fingers, content to stay outside of the undoubtedly hotter black structure. Any complaints by Tommy were immediately silenced, and he dropped to the ground next to his brother with a huff, crossing his arms in irritation.

“Be good, you two. Be back in a moment.” Phil assured them with a grin, ruffling the hair of the both of them as he passed through towards the fortress.

Techno only grunted his assent, though he kicked the youngest lightly in the leg, clearly telling him not to worry about it; not that Tommy listened.

He ignored them as they moved towards the bastion, blowing his hair out of his eyes with a loud exhale.

—

“Hey Wil,”

“No, Tommy, they’re not back yet.” He continued scrawling into the soft soul soil with his index finger, humming some nameless tune Tommy was sure he’d made up on the spot. 

“Shouldn’t they be, though?” The blonde asked from where he’d sprawled on the ground, hands behind his head and resting on his folded bandana. He stared up at the Nether ceiling, no longer flinching at the pops of the lava beneath the shelf they rested on. “It’s been a while, right?”

Wilbur stopped humming to frown contemplatively.

“Maybe?” He offered, uncertain. “Time is different in the Nether, I think— distance, too.”

“Well, I hope they’re back soon—“ he began, exasperated. He was interrupted by a low rumble, growing in volume. Tommy sat up, back ramrod-straight as he stared at the trembling pieces of rock on the ground, bouncing against each other and into the air. 

His gaze flicked to Wilbur, who mirroring the same horrified expression he was sure he was wearing at the moment.

“Are there—  _ earthquakes _ in the Nether?” The blonde murmured quietly, as if any loud sound would add to the still growing strength of the racket.

“Not that I’ve ever heard of.” His brother whispered back. Something seemed to steel him, though, an inner panic that fired the synapses in his brain. “Up, Tommy, up, come on,” he commanded, grabbing his hand and yanking the younger up. 

“Hey, hey! What about Techno and Phil?” He yelled as he was tugged along. 

Wilbur looked stricken, freezing as their survival and his care for his family warred with each other.

“Wil! T—mmy—!” Their names caused the both of them to still completely, looking at each other to confirm what they’d heard over the din. 

A shadow darkened their vision, a  _ swoosh _ cutting through the horrible cacophony of sound, and the both of them yelped, feet no longer planted on the ground.

Tommy was the first to look up, shock slowing his reaction time. 

“Phil?!” He screeched, shame about the shrillness completely forgotten in favor of their circumstances. 

“Hol— on—!” He grimaced. He had an arm wrapped around each of them, face streaked with soot and rubble, struggling to stay aloft with the weight of the two boys.

Tommy did as he was told, wrapping an arm around the man as best as he could to secure himself. A quick headcount — blonde, brunette, himself, there’s someone gone, there’s someone  _ missing _ — showed him there was only the three of them. He looked back to the crumbling bastion— the source of the ruckus, he finally noticed — expecting to see a ribbon of pink hair flying behind a running figure; and not seeing anything at all. The smoke and rubble obscured his vision of anything close to what was quickly becoming the ruins of the building.

But he had to be out by then, right?

Techno —  _ Techno, smart Techno, powerful Techno, awkward Techno, the poet, the warrior, his brother, Techno—  _ was fast. 

—

_ “ _ Techno!” _ Tommy shrieked, hands outstretched in front of him like a zombie, a guard against a stumble he was sure to take if he kept looking behind him for his pursuer. _

_ Said pursuer had no trouble navigating the various littered stones, roots, and flora of the forest, nimbly ignoring it as if it was flat ground. The way he ran so casually suggested it wasn’t his full speed, which terrified Tommy even more. His hair hadn’t yet grown to the impressive length he kept it in the future; it was still fluffy, cropped, secured back in a low ponytail that barely bounced with each long stride.  _

_ “Oh Tommmyyy.~” Techno drawled, imitating the masked boy visiting the village a few days prior. He’d shown Techno the new game — Manhunt — with his two friends, and Tommy had been trying to escape it since. _

_ Tommy made the mistake of looking back, stumbling on a misstep for just long enough for the hybrid to grab him, tossing him over his shoulder. _

_ “Not fair!” Tommy harrumphed, crossing his arms. “You always win!” _

_ The pinkette grinned to himself, pumping a clawed fist in the air. _

_ “Technoblade never dies!”  _

_ — _

His mouth ran dry, stark even against the previous grit from the Nether itself.

“Phil!” He yelled, grip tightening against his father’s robes. “Where’s Techno!”

A quick, devastated glance told him all he needed to know.

He screamed his brothers name back at the crumbling building, voice hardly carrying even as the rumble subsided, structure collapsing in on itself. 


	2. i said like screw the nether

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> phil’s hurt wilbur’s hurt tommy’s hurtin’ what’s goin on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does anyone even know where these chapter titles are from yet 
> 
> anyway update on the same day before anyone’s even read this because I felt bad about the cliffhanger 
> 
> mwah <3

“The portal— you— stick the landi—“ Phil gasped. 

“Phil!” Wilbur shouted, freeing a hand to point at the soul soil in patches around the portal. “There—!”

Tommy watched as Phil nodded weakly— once, twice— and a bead of blood was swept off his temple by the rushing air, leaving a watery red trail behind. His eyes fluttered, though it looked like he tried desperately to keep them open.

“Phil—“ he warned, but it was too late. The portal was fast approaching, and with it, the patch of squishy soil. Tommy felt his stomach flop as they suddenly turned midair, their father’s wings curling around the three protectively as they hurtled towards the ground.

—

Tommy regained consciousness with a start, jerking back from the hand which had shaken his shoulder. The shoulder in question aching sore, and he was sure blue-bruised. He clutched at it and groaned, sitting up.

“Good, okay, you’re awake. One down, one to go.” Wilbur was less talking and more nervously babbling to himself, fingers twitching around where they formed a broken halo around the head of their patriarch. His head lied on the legs of Wilbur, who’d settled on his knees in favor of examining the blood slowly seeping, discoloring his blonde hair. Wilbur looked up to Tommy, desperation quickly turning to the same steel he had gained earlier in the presence of his youngest brother.

“Okay,” he breathed, exhaling. He shot a half-hearted smile his way, tired. “we need to move him. I couldn’t carry both of you; the portal’s behind us. Phil overshot a bit.”

Tommy swallowed, copying Wilbur’s position to lean over the oldest, hands hovering over him, too afraid to touch and make something worse. 

“Is he—“ he began, gulping before contuinuing. “I mean— it’s not that bad, right?”

“It could be  _ bad,  _ bad _ ,  _ Tommy!” Wilbur reprimanded, with the mania of a man who had little left to lose. Tommy had only seen that sort of passion on Wilbur a few times; and each time, it spelled disaster. “Sorry, I—“

“Okay, okay.” He acquiesced, interrupting and putting his hands up. “Where should I, um, pick him up?”

“I’ll grab his arms; we should probably keep his head supported—“ his last few words were cut short by a grunt as he struggled to find somewhere to lift the blonde by, wings and deadweight getting in his way. The youngest followed suit, picking the man up by his legs. The carrying was an awkward endeavor, but they managed to half-shuffle backwards to the portal frame. Shuffle was a generous word for it; Tommy noticed how his brother limped, and could imagine how it felt, based on his soreness alone. 

A wail cut through the air when they were just a few strides from the portal, freezing the both of them in their tracks. Wilbur silently gestured to set their father figure down, gently resting his upper body against the netherrack. 

“Tommy,” he began in a low whisper.

The blonde shook his head vigorously, heart jumping into his throat. 

“I know what you’re going to say, Wilbur!” He half-shouted, passion dampened by a whisper. “You can’t just—“

“I can, Tommy,” he interjected, stepping forward. He rested his hands on Tommy’s shoulders, smiling softly at him. “And I will. Let your big brother do something for ya for once, hmm? There’s a lad.” 

“Don’t do something stupid. If you don’t come back, I’m gonna kill ya myself. Got it, ya big lug?” Tommy sniffed. He was unwilling to let any tears fall. That would be admitting defeat. And Tommy ‘Innit’ ‘Minecraft’ never admitted defeat. He was going to be fine. 

“Got it.” Wilbur smiled, just a tinge sad. “Come on now, you gotta grab dad before the great beasty gets here.” He turned serious quickly, unsheathing his own sword. A hardy iron like Tommy’s, but glowing a blue-purple sheen from the enchantment it’d had on when Wilbur had first stolen it from an old jungle temple. He turned to face where the shelf of rock ended, looking out over the lava ocean before he stumbled with the force of the hug thrown upon him from behind. He turned halfway to embrace the youngest back with his free arm, before gently pushing him away.

“Go.” He commanded; looking every bit the eldest brother he was. “Be right behind you.”

Tommy could only nod before he began dragging Phil towards the portal, making haste while trying to be equally as careful with his bleeding head as Wilbur had been.

He kept moving, even when the crying thing appeared over the magma, a horrible translucent white beast with a slowly opening maw.

He spared a glance up at a couple feet from the portal, only to find Wil parrying a fire charge, narrowly missing the mob. 

He’d seen something that Tommy hadn’t, apparently, since a look of horror warped his expression. The man ran and slid, bringing his sword up in front of him and returning the projectile that had been headed for the blondes, reinforced by his forearm against the hilt.

“Tommy,  _ now would be good! _ ” He gritted his teeth, tracking the Ghast as it strafed through the air.

With a mighty pull, he succeeded in dragging himself and his father over the threshold of the portal, panting too quickly to suck in any of the Nether’s dry air. The image of the Nether swirled and twisted, shimmering like a mirage in the desert. 

“Wil!” He howled, as the unfamiliar prickles of the portal began to take him away. “Come on!”

His brother looked back —  _ Wilbur, smart Wilbur, funny, talented, the singer, the adventurer, the compassionate, Wilbur _ — and began running to meet them.

Tommy was pushed out of the portal and onto the grass of the overworld, stumbling back into the roots of a birch tree. Phil remained silent beside him, as the boy worked to get him upright and against the wall of wood.

He watched eagerly for the portal to spit his brunette brother out, only for his face to fall the longer it took.

He had to be in by now, right?

Wilbur was clever.

—

_ Wilbur had gotten dragged into Manhunt as well, as far as Tommy could remember. He was also not a big fan, though even more so than Tommy. He preferred to hide somewhere whenever the mood struck Techno. It was for him that Tommy was looking for then. _

_ His hair was even longer than in the future; it was fluffier, left untamed; even without a beanie to hide the top. He’d pinned it back with a little clip, probably swiped from Phil or Techno. He was reclining in the boughs of a tree, a book open on his lap. His guitar case hung over a branch too, but Tommy knew that if he were to play, Techno’s keen ears would pick him up immediately.  _

_ “Wil!” He whisper-shouted from the ground, staring up into the brush. “Wiiiil!” _

_ “What is it, child.” He barely glanced down. _

_ “He’s doing the manhunt thing again! He threatened to dropkick me!” He complained.  _

_ Wilbur just sent him another bemused glance. _

_ “And?” He prompted, unconcerned. _

_ “Let me up there! I’ll hide with ya! I’ll give you, uh,” he wracked his mind for something valuable. “I’ll take the blame for when you get in trouble with Phil next?” He offered, uncertain. _

_ Wilbur rarely got in trouble with Phil; and when he did, it was usually big stuff. The kind of lecturing he wanted desperately to avoid. _

_ “Hmmm,” Wil tapped at his chin, considering. The sounds of footsteps through the undergrowth grew louder as his older brother took his time. “Fine. You can come up.” _

_ “Great!” _

_ Tommy faltered. _

_ “..how?” _

_ Wil shook his head and tutted lightly, before he opened up his bag, fetching a fishing rod. _

_ “Hold onto this.” He said, lowering the end. Tommy did as he was told, desperate for salvation. _

_ He snapped the rod back quickly, using the branch as leverage, and Tommy came flying up with a quiet noise of surprise. Just as he was about to fall, Wilbur caught him by the wrist, hoisting him up. _

_ “That was  _ insane! _ ” Tommy grinned. _

_ Wilbur shrugged, through the smirk snug on his face betrayed his smugness.  _

_ “Just don’t say I never did anything for you.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how we FEELIN boys  
> more cliffhangers hehehe
> 
> comments are so, so appreciated! make my day every time and I love to hear your thoughts, theories, ideas, etc!!
> 
> have a nice day, wherever you are!


	3. you know what screw the nether

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you think you’ve seen sad tommy?  
> ohohoho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the insane hits and kudos!!!! make me so happy!!!!
> 
> the comments are the very best though, thank you to those who had something to say!!!
> 
> enjoy ;)

The portal wavered. He straightened, hopeful, swallowing against the knot of nerves in his throat.

It wavered again.

And  _ shattered _ .

The glow disappeared, pieces of the portal flying in a burst of particles. They faded, even as Tommy scrambled to collect them. Intangible, they simply dissipated.

His jaw slowly hung open, struck by what he’d just seen.

“No; no,  _ no, no, not you too, not— _ “ he broke off, unable to continue.

“Fuck.” Tommy sniffled.

He roughly wiped away the tears beginning to pool in his eyes, slamming his hands into the ground, ignoring the temporary numbness that came with the motion. 

“ _ Fuck!” _ He shouted, repeating the action. “No, damn it, I’m not going to—“

He interrupted himself again, digging into his bag, for the one piece of iron Phil insisted he keep in there, for repairing whatever tool he broke:

Tommy tore it out of a pocket of the bag, scrambling to move to the gravel by the little bank of the stream.

“Just one flint— just  _ one, _ please,  _ come on,  _ I need to help them, they’re my family  _ please let me help him he’stheonlyoneleft—“ _ his words were becoming unintelligible, rushed and blurred with nothing but gasping sobs between them. Still, no flint yielded itself, even as he exhausted the gravel of its short supply. 

He’d been ignoring the reality of the situation, but it was crashing down upon him like a tidal wave over a rocky beach. He felt his edges becoming more jagged, the opposite of erosion, sharpening the worst parts of his pain.

It couldn’t happen like this.

He dragged himself back to the tree, curling up into his father’s side. He tugged a limp wing around himself, praying that the other blonde would wake up, tell him what to do, just so Tommy could do the opposite, and then he’d laugh, and Wil would laugh, and Techno would chuckle because he would think it’s kind of funny but not that funny because he would have expected it.

The portal blitzed to life.

A hand came out, stretching, reaching. 

Tommy jumped to his feet, almost tripping over himself in his haste to meet it.

He clutched at its wrist, pulling as soon as the hand clasped around his own.

The portal shimmered, pulling back as if they were trying to keep whoever was on the other side.

“Let go of my godsdamned brother, you! Bloody! Prick!” He grunted.

No later than the words were spoken, the portal warped for a final time, and Tommy found himself thrown into the birch a second time. This time, however, not dragging a person, but thrown by one.

He barely dared to breathe.

“Wil?” He began, gently rolling the beanpole over. 

His brother grinned up at him, exhausted, covered in dust and rock, singed all over.

“Guess I’m really Wilbur ‘Soot’ now, huh Tommy?” He joked, coughing dust to the side.

“Shut the  _ fuck _ up!” Tommy yelled, throwing himself overtop of the musician.

“Tom—  _ ow, Tommy!— _ gentle with me old bones!” Wil groaned, though he just as quickly accepted the embrace of the younger, sitting up and into the hug. 

Over his shoulder, he caught a glance of Phil, and freed his arms gently.

“He .. still hasn’t woken up yet?” Wilbur asked, solemn.

He felt Tommy shake a ‘no’ into his shoulder, hiccuping back a sob.

Wilbur stared, waiting.

Only the rise and fall of his fathers chest made him exhale loudly, returning to the hug, where Tommy was quickly making his torn, singed sweater wet with tears.

“Fuck.” He sighed.

“Fuck.”

—

“The ghast fireballed the portal.” He explained, parting the blonde hair, looking for the source of the bleeding. “That shattered it. I didn’t have any steel or flint on me, so I had to improvise. Took me a couple of tries to get the bastard to hit the frame again. And even more to kill it.” Wilbur grimaced. “Ah; found it.” He winded as he prodded gently at the bash— no wonder Phil had been having trouble flying. The Nether currents were already difficult enough for him to navigate, but the nasty abrasion-cut combo must have made him fuzzy.

Tommy winced at the sight, swallowing back one of the hiccuping sobs that still plagued him from earlier.

Phil’s bed had been stripped of the comforter and blankets, made into a makeshift medical cot that he and his brother were standing over. 

“Is he going to .. yknow. Be alright?” Tommy ventured to ask.

“I think so.” Wilbur sighed, settling back into one of the chairs they’d dragged into the bedroom. “He’s been through a lot worse. I’d give him a healing potion, but I’m not sure how it works for head injuries. Regen, too.”

“Right..” Tommy couldn’t look away from their patriarch. He’d never seen him so weak. Even at the worst of times, when battling consciousness, and injury, Phil —  _ Phil, experienced Phil, fatherly Phil, strong Phil, protector, carer, dad, Phil —  _ had been there for them.

Always.

—

_ Tommy was young when it happened. Phil went out on little journeys frequently, usually for things they desperately needed that they couldn’t grow or make themselves.  _

_ In this occasion, it was iron.  _

_ They’d been running low for a while, and their father’s want for them to have protection of their own — armor, swords, etc — drove him to finally make the trip to the mines. _

_ His hair was about the same length it was in the future. It was a constant, much like Phil. He was a rock for a few troubled teens, still accepting each other as brothers.  _

_ He liked to joke that they adopted him more than he adopted them. _

_ He was never neglectful when going on his trips; Wilbur was in charge, the eldest, though everyone knew and acknowledged that Techno was in charge if they came into any physical danger. Food, instructions; all usually went well on his small expeditions. _

_ But not that time. _

_ The game of Manhunt was nearly over; they’d survived long enough that Techno was sure to be bored, restless, and ready to go inside. _

_ Wilbur perked up, leaning to one side of the branch.  _

_ “I hear him.” He hissed. _

_ Uh oh.  _

_ Tommy didn’t really fancy being tackled a second time in one night. _

_ “Wilbur!” He heard Techno shout. They looked at each other quizzically. He never straight up called Wilbur’s name. That was a dead giveaway he was there; and Wilbur could move. _

_ “Wilbur, please, it’s Phil!”  _

_ If the desperation hadn’t gotten them to move, the name of their guardian did. They exchanged one more glance before they scrambled down the tree, running straight into their pink-haired sibling. _

_ He looked terrified. _

_ They ran straight home, the three of them ignoring any obstacle in favor of getting to their parent as swiftly as possible. _

_ The feathers at the door stopped them. _

_ Techno pushed forward, setting his hand on the doorknob before pushing in shyly. _

_ The youngest and eldest gaped at what they saw.  _

_ Arrows, two of them, sticking out of a bloodied wing. A bandaged gash across his side. Their father trying to pull the arrows out himself and failing, just out of reach. _

_ He stopped as he heard the door creak open further. _

_ “Hi, boys.” He smiled weakly. One arm was supporting him, planted against the table. _

_ Tommy passed out. _

_ He’d later learned that Wilbur had helped him pull the arrows out, as he talked him through it, reassuring him the whole time. Phil kept his mind off what he was doing, barely wincing at all. _

_ Techno told him it must have hurt; a lot. _

_ He still brought them the iron.  _

_ A manhunt of his own, he said. Except he was getting hunted by skeletons. _

_ “I’ll be fine, boys. Always will.” _

—

But he wasn’t. 

A groan woke him from his reverie, and he stared, stunned by the blue eyes cracking open.

“Mmmhf.” Phil clutched at his head as he rose from the bed, looking around, dazed.

“Phil?” Tommy and Wilbur breathed in unison.

“T’mm. Wib’r. Tech—“ he counted, pointing to each. Until his hand rested on an empty spot.

His hand shook as he set it down, ignoring the scrapes from rock and rubble.

“Techno.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading so far!!  
> is the foreshadowing apparent yet?? ;)
> 
> please if it’s no bother comment! I love reading your ideas thoughts theories etc!!!!!! three people did last chapter and I was ECSTATIC
> 
> I hope you’re having a nice day, wherever you are!


	4. think i’d better come and rejoin you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we learn what happened at the bastion. or at least, some of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohohohohohoggohoogogo you think I’ve hurt dadza ENOUGH. TECHNOBLADE, PERHAPS. OHOHOHO, DEAR READER. I’VE JUST BEEN GETTING STARTED
> 
> thank you for 1,000 HITS!! that’s absolutely nutty!!! and all the comments you leave fill me with the MOST joy!! my very favourites are the guessing/speculatory ones ;>>
> 
> TYSM!
> 
> [btw there is a POV shift somewhere in here into philza, hopefully I made it not too confusing!! there might be a couple more as we go along!]

“How much do you remember?” Wilbur asked, gently. He’d taken a seat on the bed, carefully winding bandages around the wound. Phil had become stoic again, steadfast against the world already. 

“I think, all of it,” Phil paused. He furrowed his brows, rubbing gently at his temples. He’d assumed a cross-legged sit, claiming it alleviated the pain from his injuries. Tommy just thought he didn’t want to be laying down. “Ah; the Bastion, flying— crashing,” he added wryly. “and not much else from there.”

“That’s about all we know.” Wilbur sighed, tying off the bandage. “Should be good there. Can you use pots’ on head injuries?”

“Ah, that’d be a good idea, if we have any left. Would at least help with the rest of it.”

“I’ll go grab them!” Tommy volunteered, shooting to his feet. The both of them looked at him oddly, causing color to rise to his cheeks. “Just. Want to get up.”

“Sure thing.” The brunette nodded, turning back to address the patriarch. 

Tommy exited the room to the sounds of light chatter, until it faded into the gentle crackle of the lanterns and furnaces kept burning in their home. He trailed his hand along the brick, tracing the grooves with his finger as he descended. The potions room was small, cozy. He didn’t go down there much; he was rubbish with identifying the ingredients and handling the glass, no matter how much he did his reading up. They were easy enough to identify, though, labels pasted on the side of each bottle.

As he collected them, he berated himself.

Wanted to get up.

Tch. Embarrassing. Bad excuse.

He’d just wanted to help, really. His family had been risking _everything_. To help the _deadweight._ _Him._ It had been _his_ first trip to the Nether, _his_ inexperience why they were separated, _him_ slowing everyone down.

The bitter thoughts stung at his eyes and throat, prickling uncomfortably. He ignored it, pressing it down as he piled the glass into his arms and made his way back up.

The tone of conversation had shifted from light to serious while he was gone, apparently, based on the solemn voices of his brother and father.

— 

“—was active. I’ve never even  _ heard _ of an active Bastion, but they had everything. Hoglin stables, treasure room, towers; gods, Wil, it looked like they were  _ preparing _ it. There were so many of them.” Phil rubbed the base of his palms at his eyes, squinting against his growing distress. He felt awful. Worse than awful. All the death he’d experienced around the world had never even started to prepare him for the possible death of his son. “Techno said it made him nervous. I agreed; I offered to leave, but, you know him,” he chuckled without any humor behind it. “so objective driven. Invincible feeling.”

He took a deep breath, slumped over. He felt a hand hesitantly rest on his back. The blonde didn’t shy away from it. Instead, he reached an arm over to grab it, clutching his eldest son’s hand to keep himself grounded, grateful that he allowed it.

“So we continued.”

—

_ “Hey, Phil— I got a bad feeling about this one, man.” Techno was nervous; that much was clear. Philza felt it himself, really. There was a sort of building tension around the Bastion, thick enough to cut with his sword and to leave two cleaved halves behind.  _

_ “Yeah. Me too.” He adjusted his hat on his head with his free hand, the other carefully holding his sword out as to not disturb the machinations of the piglins by accidentally hitting one. “I could go mining, instead.” He offered. It wasn’t his favourite activity, but it beat putting himself and his ward into immediate, perilous danger. _

_ “Mm.” The hybrid hummed, unsure. “I’m pretty sure we can loot the place. In and out. Probably get more gold that way too. Would make for a good story.  _ ‘How I Looted an Active Bastion’.”

_ Phil laughed with him, a small snicker dampened by the oppressive nature of the structure.  _

_ “Alright.” He acquiesced. “Lead the way, mate.” _

_ Techno had an elite, coveted ability to navigate Nether structures. Phil suspected it was somehow tied to his heritage, but it could never be confirmed. Nonetheless, he let his son take charge, assured in his ability to both take point and protect himself. _

_ When they found themselves in the treasure room, Phil knew something was off. The place was crawling with piglins, save for the center. They gave it a wide berth, whatever it was. Behind that patch were the chests. He grimaced.  _

_ “How are we clearing ‘em out?” Techno asked. Phil had crept up to the alcove overlooking the room, the pinkette directly behind him. _

_ “Uhhhm,” he paused, drumming his fingers on the hilt of his sword. “maybe we could make a barrier on top of the patch? Just— don’t touch it. Looks suspicious to me, the fucker.” _

_ “Got it.” The boy nodded his assent, beginning to clamber down to the floor. Phil reached out, tugging him back up by his cape. _

_ “Let me go first, okay?” He felt scrutinized under his son’s gaze, like his motives were being studied. He held firm, however, even as the middle child sighed.  _

_ “Okay.”  _

_ The rough brick bit into his hands, leaving small indents that had already begun to fade. Still, once close enough, the blonde let go of the wall and fell, breaking his landing with a single strong thrust of his wings. He signaled for his son to wait as he folded the appendages, navigating through the crowd of piglins towards the center.  _

_ He only noticed something was off when it became quiet. _

_ Next to the platform, he stilled, turning around, only to see a broad semicircle of piglins entrapping him. _

_ The bustle of the Bastion had stopped, at least within the room, the silence being broken only by the occasional low grunt or pop of lava. _

_ He’d never seen them acting so strangely. _

_ Purposely slow in his movements, he brought his hand up to his neck, pulling out the black cord from under the collar of his robe. The small pendant shone of gold, crudely shaped into a heart with two deep grooves under either arch. They were fashioned mostly for the family’s trips to the Nether; Tommy had a disc, Wilbur a small fish — a cod of some kind, if Phil recalled correctly — and Techno had insisted on his being a potato. Welcoming gifts, really. A welcome to the family.  _

_ He held the pendant off of his throat for the piglins to see. They were fond of gold; trusting of those that had it. It pacified them. _

_ Or at least, it was supposed to. _

_ When the glint of gold gleamed under the glow of the hanging lanterns, everything went to hell. _

_ The crowd surged forward, lusty in their pursuit of the small piece of gold. Phil shouted as he was pushed back, scrambling away from the group. _

_ “Phil!” He heard his name over the noise, but he was busy stuffing the necklace back into his shirt, and unsheathing his sword; hoping to quell their desires. His sword came free of its covering with a sharp scrape, diamond flashing in front of him as he blocked the swipes towards him. _

_ They’d become aggressive; frothing at the mouth. No longer intelligent. Mobs. _

_ Sparing a moment to look up, he saw the hybrid fixing to jump into the action, in the midst of unsheathing his own blade. _

_ Panic had him shouting at him immediately, releasing his sword with one hand and waving at his son with the other. _

_ “No, no! Your sword— golden—“ he was cut off by a particular forceful push, stumbling backwards. “Techno—“ _

Click.

_ Phil’s heart sank in time with his foot, heel lowering with the leveled platform he’d just tripped onto. _

_ The advancing mob stopped. _

_ “Oh,  _ fuck.”  _ He whispered. _

_ — _

“The ground  _ shook,  _ Wil— it— it was  _ insane _ . The amount of redstone, or maybe TNT they had to have amassed— it was  _ huge. _ ” Phil laughed and ran a hand back through his hair, only a bit hysterical in his retelling.

“We felt it.” Wilbur admitted. “I— I almost made us run, Phil. Without you two.”

He smiled softly, squeezing his son’s hand. 

“I would have much rather you’d left me than either of you two being hurt.”

—

_ The ground was quaking. Bricks were tearing loose from their grout, stone falling from the ceiling. _

_ That didn’t matter to Phil though. _

_ His  _ son  _ did. _

_ “Techno!” He shouted over the chaos. His sword was quickly sheathed as he ran towards the alcove, shoving away the piglins in his way, uncaring of their aggression.  _

_ The pinkette was already ahead of him, meeting him below the alcove.  _

_ “This— this is huge, Phil.” He exhaled, eyes wide.  _

_ “We need to go—  _ now.”  _ He commanded, gripping his shoulder tightly. They couldn’t get separated now; not in the maze that was the Bastion. The roar of the structure was becoming louder; more intense. He couldn’t help but feel that they weren’t going to make it out in time. _

_ And they didn’t. _

_ It grew until it was near silence. _

_ They stopped, wordless, mutual panic passing through them both with a single, helpless glance. _

_ Techno looked up, eyebrows furrowing, before his eyes suddenly widened.  _

_ “Watch out!” _

_ Phil stumbled with the push, tripping backwards and onto his arse.  _

_ His stomach churned.  _

_ Where there had once been his son, there was a pile of rubble, ashy black dust rising from the stacks of brick. _

_ He moved forward slowly, on his hands and knees u til he reached the front of the pile. _

_ “T—“ he choked on the first syllable, pressing his hands gently against the rock. “Techno?” _

_ His voice hurt, cracking on emotion that was rising to the surface too fast for him to process. He barely registered the tears tracking down his face as he pressed more firmly against the stone, tracing the contours of a child’s face that no longer existed. _

“Techno.”

_ A low whine had his head whipping up from where it had been slowly sinking, and he rapped on the stone quickly, ignoring how it caused his already torn knuckles to sting. _

  
  


_ “Techno! Hey— hey, can you hear me? You’ve gotta respond, mate, please.” He pleaded. _

_ He stilled, waiting with bated breath. _

_ “...Phil?” _

_ “Oh, thank _ Gods,” _ he nearly sobbed, pounding weakly against the shaking floor. “Are— are you alright? Can you get out?” _

_ “I—“ he paused, a quiet grunt barely audible through the layers of debris. “—I don’t think so.” _

_ The stone groaning unsteadily had Phil rushing to stem that train of thought. _

_ “I don’t think that’s stable— I have to get you out of there.” _

_ “Phil.” _

_ “Huh?” He was already digging at the loosest rubble when the boy’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. _

_ “You have to go get Wil and Tommy.” _

_ “But—“ he began, before he was cut off. _

_ “I’ll be fine; they probably don’t know what’s happening. Please, you— you have to go help them.”  _

_ Phil paused, measuring his words in his mind. _

_ “How bad is it, Techno.” _

_ A shaky laugh came from inside the ruins. _

_ “It’s not good, Phil.” _

_ “I can’t just leave you.” _

_ “You have to.” _

_ “Fuck,” he rested his forehead against the rock. “fuck.” _

_ He stood, shakily. _

_ “I’ll be back for you, you know.” _

_ “I know.” _

_ Phil could almost hear the smile from the other end.  _

_ The pain, too. _

_ “Can you—“ he stopped, reaching into his bag. “Just— if you can, take this.” He slid the object as best he could through the loosest gaps in the rock. _

_ “Phil—“ _

_ “I’ll be back.” He said firmly. _

_ “Okay.” _

_ His departure wasn’t long-lasting, though. As he turned away from his buried son, the ceiling shifted again. _

_ Not a pile of rubble this time; but perhaps more dangerous. _

_ A piece of stone struck him in the temple, and he crumpled. _

_ He thought he heard a single word before consciousness left him. _

_ Far away, an echo. _

_ “Dad!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oH!!
> 
> what did he give techno???? what happened to dadza???? are they both okay???? will tommy ever be emotionally stable again???? WE WILL SEE
> 
> tysm for commenting, makes my day! I’d love to see your guesses and such on what you liked or what you think will happen next!!
> 
> as always, wherever you are, have a nice day!


	5. won’t believe a word when i tell you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> techno freezes as we look through his eyes and his time at the bastion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is brought to you by techno suffering!! and MORE philza angst brought to you by bamf philza! AND father-son feels ;>
> 
> enjoy!

Techno was cold.

It was hot in the Nether; blisteringly so, in fact, but the press of the blackstone against him made him shiver, no matter what the temperature of it really was.

He attributed some of it to blood loss. Even he couldn’t go long without healing. Potions, restorative food; anything to pause the red wetness that was beginning to pool around him.

He’d ripped part of his sleeve off, mourning the loss but preferring to stem the bleeding over his eye than be too upset to do so. Now he regretted the decision, if only because of how he shuddered even under the weight and warmth of his cloak. 

He took comfort in the item clutched in his fist. Some kind of good luck token, Techno was sure. Something precious to Phil, at least; he’d never left it behind to anyone before. When brought up to the small beam of reddish light available to him, it shone green and gold. It was only a tiny spot, though he’d tried to widen it when he’d been less tired. The massive slab of rock wouldn’t budge though, no matter how hard he had tried.

He didn’t really want to risk opening up any of his wounds further either.

Techno curled tighter into himself, clutching his robe around him. It was uncomfortable, what, with his other hand pressed firmly against his largest wound, a gash on his hip that was turning tacky with blood, but there wasn’t much to be done about it.

The position reminded Techno of when he’d been ‘adopted’, in the loosest possible meaning of the term. A mere shoat, saved, wrapped in cloth and feathers, a tight embrace that promised fatherhood.

Fatherhood that he had neglected to acknowledge.

He’d already accepted the love of his foster father, but he could never put it to words.

Too shy, not the right time, everyone knew it silently. But he never told him.

He regretted that, now.

When he could be dead.

He shook at the remembered sound of a body hitting stone, a low thud that reverberated in his skull over and over again.

—

_ Techno hurt. _

_ Oh, it hurt badly. But he couldn’t let his father know of how badly. He would do something drastic, he was sure. Anything that would guarantee the survival of his sons; even something that endangered him. _

_ And that couldn’t happen. _

_ He reached his fingers down as far as he could under the rubble, barely catching the object on its tip. With each little nudge, it came closer, until he was able to pick it up, hold it in the palm of his hand. _

_ A lucky charm. _

_ “Phil—“ he began. He couldn’t take it. Not when the likelihood of him making it back was slowly inching downwards,  _

_ “I’ll be back.” It was a promise. _

_ Despite the seemingly impossible nature of the vow, his heart strained to believe him. _

_ “Okay.” He responded, clutching the totem in his fist.  _

_ Footsteps. Away from the rubble. Fading. _

_ A indiscernible cracking that only he could hear, low ears twitching at. _

_ A warning that didn’t make it out in time before he heard his father collapse to the floor. _

_ The word tore itself out of his throat before he could even begin to think about it. _

_ “Dad!”  _

_ He pushed against the rock, only succeeding in creating a small hole; one which he could barely see out of. He inched up to it gingerly, pressing his eye against it, calling out to the blonde. _

_ “Wake up! Dad— you have to get up!” Techno wasn’t sure the ceiling would hold for much longer. He wasn’t sure that his brothers would either. Not knowing what was going on; scared, probably. He clenched his hands into fists, screaming his fury to the Bastion.  _

_ He couldn’t give up. _

_ Not when his family’s lives were on the line. _

_ “Dad! Get up, wake up, please!” _

_ The slumped figure twitched, slowly. His father pushed himself up with both arms before one buckled under the pressure. Still, he didn’t cry out. Blonde hair hid his expression, but Techno knew the kind of gritted teeth you had to wear to pull yourself up, together, ready for the next battle. One arm hung limply at his side, while the other strained to get himself upright. _

_ He stared in horror at the blood running down his dad’s face. _

_ Any words he tried to say died in his throat, empty echoes of pleads and platitudes as he watched him stand. _

_ Techno could only watch as Phil stood, shakily. Limping towards the corridor’s exit. Setting his left shoulder against the corner, and pushing forward with the rest of his body. _

_ The otherwise inaudible pop of his shoulder relocating, the grunt that came with it. _

_ Sometimes Techno cursed his senses. _

_ His father disappeared around the corner with a wayward glance towards his charge. _

_ Yet still, Techno couldn’t find the words to say to him. _

__

But he was alive, as far as he knew, Techno reminded himself. If he had any source to claim he had gained his strength from, it was his family. Strong Philza, clever Wilbur, kind Tommy.

He closed his eyes, tucking impossibly tighter into himself.

He let the long past memories crash into him, a tidal wave taking him far under consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how we FEELIN’ boys!
> 
> apologize for the short chapter, but I wanted it only to be from techno’s pov while not revealing too much! new chapter today or tomorrow to make up for it, promise!
> 
> your speculations and guesses had me LIVING last chapter, so I just had to share this with you! many of you turned out to be correct, while some had close but not quite guesses! I’d still love to hear more; your comments make my day!!
> 
> as always, wherever you are, have a nice day!


	6. even if my tools are just make-do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a plan is hatched, though not all members of the family agree with it. the sleepy bois plot and live up to their name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we’re back to tommy’s perspective here!!
> 
> I’m glad you all liked the view into techno’s situation, but it’s time to get back into the perspective of the boys who AREN’T in immediate danger ;)
> 
> thanks for all of the comments! it was absolutely spectacular to read em all, made my day. :D

“You can come in, Tommy.” Phil sighed, looking towards the door. His smile was soft, barely there, but comforting nonetheless. “I’d love a potion before my head pops out me skull.” 

He froze behind his peephole, slowly pushing open the door with his foot.

“Don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout, old man.” He lied, letting the potions tumble out of his arms and onto the bedside dresser. They clinked in the silence between them. “Didn’t hear a thing!”

His father sent him a knowing glance, before turning and picking up one of the bottles. He uncorked it, sniffing it quickly before swigging the thing down, wrinkling his nose.

“Ach, I have quite the sweet tooth but this is just saccharine.”

“You didn’t even look at the label!” Tommy cried, furrowing his brows. “I could’ve brought you poison!” 

“I know my potions, Tommy.” He leveled an unimpressed look his way, before he scooched back on the bed and patted the space in front of him, next to Wilbur. “Come up, child. Mind the shoes.” He added, wary of the blonde’s red sneakers.

“Both of you listen,” he began, as Tommy clambered up onto the bed. The child pretended to ignore Wilbur, though he didn’t protest when the brunette slung an arm over his shoulder and tugged him closer. “and I don’t want to hear any protests, yeah?”

The smile had disappeared, mouth pressed into a thin line. Wilbur had always called the expression ‘hardcore mode’; and Tommy could see why. The both of them stayed quiet, hardly daring to breathe under the scrutiny of their father.

“Okay. Here’s the plan. Tomorrow morning, I’m going to go back to the Nether. Alone.” When they began to speak up, Phil hushed them, holding up a finger for them to pause. “I’ll armor up. Less risk if I go alone. The Nether’s .. been strange, as of recent, and I’m the best suited to deal with it. Bring Techno home. You guys wait for me. I might need help with …” he struggled for the best way to phrase it, silenced for a moment. “... healing.” He finished.

“Phil— that’s not  _ fair.”  _ Wilbur searched his father for any sign of his argument going anywhere; and didn’t find it. Still, he pressed on. “He’s my little brother, Tommy’s older brother, too! We should get to help. You’re still hurt; even with pots, there’s no way you’re going to be your best self by tomorrow!”

“I will  _ not _ lose another son!” Phil snapped. 

The air in the room stilled.

“I’m sorry.” Their father was the first to speak, punching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “But it’s not up for debate. I think it’s about time you both get rest. Need you at your best for tomorrow, yeah?”

The brothers muttered their reluctant compliance.

Wilbur was the first to stand, brushing himself off. 

“Well. I need a bath.” He announced. “Night, dad.” He smiled sadly at the blonde.

“Night, Wil.”

Tommy waited until Wilbur left the room, bouncing his leg nervously against his hand, which rested on his knee.

“You’re gonna be safe. Right, da’?” He asked. His stomach was sitting in a Celtic knot in his abdomen, twisting and cramping with every stray thought of what could go wrong. His lungs hurt, ashy fog poisoning his alveoli. 

“—ommy! Tommy!”

He blinked back to awareness, edges of his vision clearing up. 

“Huh?” His breathing was slowly returning to steadiness. He wasn’t ever aware that he’d been panting in the first place. The blonde released his hand where it had been clutching his shirt over his heart, confused. He looked up, startled to see his father’s face so close to his own. He realized that his hands were on his shoulders, gripping him so that he faced the other.

“I’m going to be safe.  _ We’re _ going to be safe. Everything’s going to be okay, Tommy.” Phil promised. He seemed to search his eyes for any further sign of the attack, satisfied to see none.

“Okay.” Tommy inhaled, puffing out a breath and his chest. “Okay.”

“Good lad.”

“I— I’m going to go to bed, now, I think.”

“That might be best.” Phil grinned, though the smile didn’t reach the worry in his eyes.

“Yeah. Ah— goodnight, dad.”

“Night, Tommy.”

Tommy kept his steps steady as he crossed the room, closing the door almost all the way; a few centimeters remaining.

He watched as his father relaxed into himself, looking up to the ceiling.

He left, a sour taste settling in his mouth.

—

Tommy crept towards his room, thoughts running faster than he stepped. Techno had claimed one of the rooms at the top floor, and Phil had already had the other. Wilbur kept what had once been a sort of den for himself, while Tommy had taken the last room on the first floor. He walked past it, though, silently walking down the steps. He’d learned where all the squeaky stairs were the first few times he’d snuck up or down to his family’s rooms; sometimes, when he was younger, when the nightmares got too bad, he’d slipped up into Phil’s room, only to be met by an open, but tired embrace. Other times, when his dad was out on one of his trips, he’d tiptoe down the stairs and into Wilbur’s room; sometimes met with Techno there as well. Tommy didn’t like going into Techno’s room in the night. He knew how little his older brother slept.

Muscle memory tugged him down the steps, bringing him to the door to the den-turned-room. It glowed softly, sending a beam into the hallway where the door hung slightly ajar. Wilbur had always preferred lanterns and candles to any harsher light sources.

He froze when he came before the birch door, hesitating to knock from where his fist hovered above the paneling. Wilbur was probably sick of him; and he was going to take a bath, anyway, right?

Tommy backed up slowly, moving to turn on his heels and leave, before the quiet ring of metal caught his attention.

That wasn’t right.

He moved back up to the door, peeking through the crack. He could barely see, but the sparks flying off the anvil still caught his eye.

He pushed in, uncaring of the fright he might have caused his brother.

“You’re not having a bath.” He declared.

Wilbur jumped, hand flying to his beanie to keep it on as he turned, pressing back up against the metal.

“No, I am.”

Tommy peeked around him, standing on his toes.

“You’re making armor.” He accused. 

“Okay, you caught me, now go away.” His voice wavered only slightly as he turned away; though Tommy caught it nonetheless, a detection only a brother could make. 

Tommy marched forward and caught his wrist, stopping it from bringing down the hammer he had picked up again.

“Were you …  _ crying?”  _ Tommy asked, aghast.

Wilbur wrenched his arm away, and the blonde released it, still stunned. His eyes were bloodshot, wet from tears. 

Wilbur had always been a beacon of positivity. Leadership. The eldest brother. He was the most emotional, maybe, empathetic.

But Tommy had never seen him cry.

“You’re still worried about him.” Tommy realized aloud. “The both of them. You’re not going to stay here; you’re going after—“ His voice rose in volume and passion, as he jabbed a finger at his brother.

“Shh, Tommy!” Wilbur clapped a hand against his mouth, recoiling when he licked it. “Ew! And no, I’m not going to sit by while Dad gets himself and Techno killed! He’s in no way shape or form ready to go save him; he’s just too worried about us and him to see it!”

“So yes, Tommy. I’m going. And I’m not going to let you stop me.”

“Letmego.” The words rushed out of his mouth, cramped together.

Wilbur hummed his confusion, arching a brow.

“Let me come.” He enunciated. “We’re doing this together.” Tommy asserted. “You, me. Dad.”

“I don’t know—“ his brother began, holding out mitigating hands.

“I do. I’m doing this. And you’re going to let me, or I’m going by myself. Now.”

Wilbur silenced at the ultimatum. 

“Fine.” He decided. “But that means you’re going to bed. Not going to have you exhausted and slowing me down.” He sniffed.

“You too then, big man.” He grinned. It faltered somewhat when he remembered his purpose for coming. “Uh— I can leave, if you want me to, but I—“

“Stay.” Wilbur clapped a hand on his shoulder, smiling gently. “It’s okay.”

“Okay.” Tommy exhaled, grateful. “Not that it mattered.” He added.

“Sure it didn’t. Bed, then?”

He wasn’t tired, though.

Tommy yawned, blinking. 

Maybe he was a little tired. The physical, emotional exhaustion was beginning to catch up with him. 

“Okay.” He agreed, yawning again. He rubbed at his eyes as he was pushed gently towards the bed. “You’re going to bed too, right?”

“Yes, Tommy.” Wilbur sighed, though it wasn’t without amusement. “Just sleep, child.”

“Not… a child.” He reminded his brother, settling in. 

“Okay, Tommy.”

“That’s .. righ’...” He slurred.

“Night.” Wilbur whispered.

But Tommy was already fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the feels? strong, perhaps? I was yawning when I made this chapter, school’s got me TIred
> 
> poor boys ... they just want everything back to normal :(
> 
> if you’ve already done so, thanks for commenting! (though I wouldn’t mind another ;>) but if you havent consider doing so! I love reading and responding to theories, questions, and comments, and it really makes my day!!
> 
> thank you, and as always, wherever you are, have a nice day


	7. they’re gonna blast right through it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wilbur leaves for the nether alone. they find the prodigal son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the wait, and the shortness of this chapter! I was debating something for the book, which I need your help on! it’s a question at the end of the chapter :D
> 
> thanks for all the comments and your patience though! means the world!

“Fuck.” Wilbur groaned. He’d committed to waking up hopefully earlier than Tommy; and while he had, he was still groggy. The armor he was going to finish was warped; too small for him. He’d have to leave it behind. He wouldn’t have any time to fix it before Tommy would be waking up.

That didn’t mean he didn’t have his sword. He admired his handiwork briefly. Wilbur wasn’t quite as aggressive as his father and brother in adventuring, but he’d done his fair share. And that had gained him many enchanted books; most of which gleamed on his iron blade. He sheathed it quietly, glancing over to where his youngest brother was still sound asleep in bed. 

Wilbur frowned at the furrowed brows of the blonde.

He was too young to deal with it all.

And that was why the eldest felt justified in leaving him behind. 

Double-checking his inventory, Wilbur stepped forward to the side of the bed, lightly smoothing the wrinkles disturbing his brother’s sleep with a cupped hand; reminiscent of what he’d known Phil to do when he was young and scared.

“Be back in a minute.” He promised.

The brunette let the vow hang in the air, settling over the two. He couldn’t break it. That would mean the end of it.

He cared for his family. More than he could ever comfortably, seriously let on.

It was all jokes, until it wasn’t.

Wilbur closed the door behind him with a soft  _ click, _ setting off towards the Nether portal.

—

Tommy woke up warm.

The coziness of the comforter tucked tight around him nearly lulled him back to sleep, content to snuggle into the blankets and ignore the chill of the morning. 

Then his eyes flew open.

He scrambled out of his brother’s bed, barely avoiding tripping onto the floor. The blonde quickly rubbed at his eyes, clearing the fogginess away.

A quick look around the room revealed no Wilbur. The armor laid abandoned on the anvil; but his sword was missing. 

“Wil?” He called, hesitant. “Wilbur?” He tried again, voice rising with his anger. He stomped towards the door, ripping the sticky note attached to it off and throwing it to the ground.

Tommy paused, looking down at the ground.

There hadn’t been a sticky note before.

He picked it up gently, a sharp contrast to his earlier treatment of the yellow square of paper.

Scrawled on it was a simple message;  _ Back in a min. - Wil <3. _

It very quickly assumed the same position it had before, crumpled and disgraced on the ground.

“That  _ fucker—“ _ Tommy snarled, tossing it to the ground. A familiar anxiety was beginning to worm its way up his chest, tendrils of rage intertwining with the feeling. He felt gutted, burning core exposed to air and left to cool.

He turned around only to slam his back against the door, slumping.

Left behind,  _ again. _

After everything.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight together against any chance of tears, though nothing came. He realized, as he opened them up again, he had no tears left to cry. Just a faint ache that was settling, seeping, leaving deposits that grew heavier and struck bone.

As he began to tilt his head to the ceiling, it caught on a reflective glint.

Armor, unfinished, battered, but armor.

Tommy slowly rose to his feet, pushing off of one knee.

He wouldn’t stand aside and let his family take a beating for him again. Not when he could take a stance and fight  _ for _ them.  _ With _ them.

The helm was slightly dented, and small for any average man, but it fit over his head snugly. The chestplate was a bit loose in some areas, but Tommy thought it left him a bit of room for movement. The leggings weren’t too heavy, obviously thin in some places.

But the boots were perfect.

Made for him, he thought.

The path to the Nether portal was tattooed on the inside of his eyelids.

He followed it, out the house, and into the forest.

—

Wilbur wasn’t feeling well.

It was hot in the Nether, and having to worry about being spotted by his own, very observant father, was only adding to his worries.

The instant health potion he had smuggled into his room before Tommy had come barging in had already been downed, though the burns on his arms threatened to split open with every sudden movement he made. His head was pounding, brain throbbing like it had been cleaved evenly. Still, he trod on; he was sure whatever pain his younger brother was in was greater, if he had yet to return home.

His father, as well.

He’d expected his sons to stay home, of course. And one of them had. But Wilbur had followed; and could only watch as Phil made haste to the bastion, albeit limping. He barely restricted himself from calling out when he’d nearly fallen the first time, though he’d retracted his outstretched hand, wary of being sent back before they were close enough to the structure to make it worthwhile.

The fortress came into view soon enough, looming in spite of its crumbled architecture. Wilbur walked forward from where he’d been crouching along the outcropping of netherrack, stopping just beside his father.

Who jumped, and very nearly lopped his head off.

_ “Wilbur?!” _ He exclaimed, lowering his sword with a heaving breath. “You very nearly got your skull separated from your body! What— what are you  _ doing,  _ I told you to  _ stay home.” _

“No way in hell, Phil. We both know you’re not nearly as well as you’re letting on.” He began walking in time with the blonde, readying his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“I’m perfectly fine,” he sniffed. His voice was softer when he spoke again, nervous, almost. “Is Tommy—“

“Still in bed, where I left him.” He smiled. “No worries about that one.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair, exasperated. 

“Shouldn’t have left him, Wil. He’s alone.”

The limping had become more prominent as they entered the bastion, Wilbur had noticed; the uneven ground, perhaps, blackstone rubble littering the surface and rendering it hard for even him to walk through. 

He stuck closer, after that.

Phil seemed to know where to go, slipping down the corridors like a phantom. 

Until he came to the middle of one.

He shook; visibly. Wilbur curled an arm around him, helping him to settle onto his knees.

“Here.” he croaked.

Wilbur understood.

He took his pick out of his bag.

He passed a shovel to Phil.

“Techno!” He called. The tool felt heavy in his hands, weighty. “Techno, are you alright?”

Soft, almost a whisper.

“Wilbur?”

“Yeah, man.” He couldn’t help the grin that curled his lips upward. His grip tightened on the pickaxe, stronger. “We’re here to get you out.”

“...finally.”

He shook with almost hysterical laughter, Phil sitting back on his heels, looking up to the ruined ceiling as if for guidance.

“Okay. We’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how are our feels tonight??
> 
> okay, the big question:
> 
> there’s two endings I have planned out.  
> 1\. spans a couple more chapters, but ends relatively soon. the plot is over, for this segment.  
> 2\. longer, was the original plan for the story; involves more gratuitous angst but will delay another project or two I have planned !
> 
> what do you guys think? please please comment your opinions!! I am going to write more sbi no matter what, so keep that in mind if you’d like to see more of my stuff!!!
> 
> thanks for all your comments btw, I’d love to read even more! makes my day!!
> 
> forever and always, wherever you are, have a nice day


	8. feels like hell, the things i’ve just been through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> techno is taken from the rubble. the mobs aren’t happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> most of you chose option two, so that is what we will proceed with!! it is so funny to me how a lot of you guys included ‘if you want to’ or ‘if you prefer it of course’ in your responses I’m asking you guys because I WANT YOUR OPINIONS ABJERNBAB you guys are so SWEET
> 
> anyway a lot of you wanted ,,,, more whump and angst,,,?? did I not provide for you, my children?? D: I may have gone a little overboard in this chapter to make up for it, but that’s what angst is for :) :) ;)
> 
> enjoy

The excavation was harder than Wil had expected, even with the strength potion that Phil had given him. The way the rubble had fallen and caved in on his brother had aligned in such a way that it was difficult to pry him out without possibly burying him further. They’d had to work from the top up; more rock, but more secure.

Phil’s help had been delegated to shoveling the looser bits away, and keeping Techno awake, responsive. With each slower, fainter response he shot a worried glance to Wilbur. Not a plea to hurry; he knew he was going as fast as he could. Instead, looking for reassurance. Something the eldest did not hesitate to give him with a firm nod of his head whenever it occurred.

What scared Wilbur the most was not the brick, though it was a close second. It was the silence. The structure was eerily quiet, no groan out of place, and no mobs, most importantly. He had thought he’d seen some flee from the scene upon their hasty exit; but they could have run on forever, to wander the Nether’s wastelands instead.

Or, they could be where they were.

He was confident in his ability to protect himself from a mob or two; hell, he had defeated a ghast, although he’d gotten a bit singed and burned from it all.

But with his family so close; his father and brother practically out of commission…

...it wasn’t ideal.

A small shine caught his gaze as he blinked back to reality, almost invisible to the naked eye. He peered at it, squinting until it took shape, even though only part of it was visible. He pieced it together.

“Phil!” He called, though his father was quite near. The blonde’s head shot up, glance questioning in nature. The smile that had spread across his face had the older man pushing himself up with the blade of the shovel, and moving to stand beside his son. 

The last few rocks shifted with his brother as he turned, peering up to the sky with a slanted squint and furrowed bros.

“Hey.”

—

“Hey yourself.” Phil allowed himself a wobbly smile. “Let’s get you out of there.” He watched as Wilbur extended a hand forward, reaching for Techno’s arm, standing by for assistance if needed.

“Not— not that arm, Wilbur—“ Techno grunted as he was tugged on, curling in further on himself. He made no effort to reach out himself; and as he shifted, it wasn’t difficult to tell why.

Phil brought a hand up to his mouth to stifle the ragged gasp that nearly escaped him.

Because gods above, that was a  _ lot _ of blood. 

Blood that belonged to  _ his son. _

The source of it seemed to be some long cut along the pinkette’s hip, shirt above it stained a dark red. Even further towards the top, a smaller gash split the flesh of his arm; the one Wilbur had tried to pull.

“Oh—  _ Irene,  _ Techno,  _ sorry,  _ just, ah— let me know where I can grab ya.” Wilbur’s teeth tugged at his bottom lip as he winced, pulling on Techno’s other arm to at least get him sitting. It seemed to work better, at least, since Phil was there to curl an arm and wing around his back and under the injured arm, supporting him to an upright position. Even still, he slumped back into his father’s chest, head lolling back as if he were too weak to truly hold it up.

“Hey kid— how ya holding up.” 

“Been…” he kept squinting, looking past Phil as if there was something above him. His hand lifted weakly to tap his father’s jaw, and his eyes focused slightly, drawn to look at what was present. “Been ...better.”

“Can’t imagine how.” Wilbur slapped his hands against his thighs, standing from where he’d dropped into a crouch. “Let’s get you home, big man.”

“Kep’pit.” He mumbled, so quietly Phil almost dismissed it as a breath. 

“Hm?” The blonde hummed, concerned. He tucked one arm under his son’s legs, standing. Some ache seemed to have been resolved with the present, solid weight of his son in his arms. Some kind of adrenaline that was urging him to take him home, fix him to what Phil remembered. His wings curled instinctively around them at the thought. 

The hybrid’s hands clutched weakly at the fabric of Phil’s haori, head bumping gently against his chest as he walked. He felt something warm press into his abdomen, glancing down only to see the totem he’d slipped into his grasp when the rubble had first fallen. He cocked a brow.

“Kept’it.” He insisted, enunciating more clearly even against the growing slur. “Imp’tant.”

“Oh.” It hadn’t been used yet; that was good, then. The name the pillagers had given it implied a certain usage; one that he wasn’t sure would affect his sons as equally well, based on their respective heritages. “Thank you, Techno. You did well. I- I’m proud of you.” The words stuttered from his mouth, but they were genuine; in fact, they were halted because of the fact.

Techno hummed, relaxing as best he could into his father’s grip as he moved his hand to support his head and card his fingers through his hair.

“Almost out,” Phil addressed Wilbur. He’d been leading the way, as the brunette had watched their backs. “we should be fine from here; but keep an eye out.”

“Aye aye.” He saluted, keeping his sword out and ready.

The silence had been blanketing them, oppressive in its figurative weight.

Which made it all the worse when it broke.

Grunting, hooting, stomping. 

Phil’s heart leapt into his throat. 

“Wilbur!”

“Yeah, I hear ‘em, Phil!”

Mobs.

—

This was the worst case scenario.

Techno, their best fighter by far, was down for the count. Phil, the survivalist, was almost as bad off as he was. And Wilbur couldn’t fend off an army on his own. 

He sidestepped a swipe of one of the piglins, sparing a moment to glance over his shoulder, to check how his family was faring.

Not great.

Phil was attempting to ward them off with his wings; Wilbur could feel the gusts and the occasional brush of feathers as he struggled not to drop the hybrid. He’d be utterly defenseless then; and the mission they’d embarked on to save him would fail.

He couldn’t let them happen.

They circled every once in a while, instinctively moving against each other to keep the brunt of the enemies toward the brunette, saving the weakest and downed for Phil to sweep off the netherrack they fought on.

“How many more d’you think!” Phil shouted over the chaos, ignoring the horrible shriek of metal scraping against metal. “Not sure I can—“ he shifted Techno up, kicking out with a leg and downing a particularly stubborn piglin. “—hold him up a lot longer!”

Wilbur felt rather preoccupied, though, with the sword fight he and a piglin brute had gotten into. Their blades rang together, and while iron had far more durability than the soft, sharp gold, even it was beginning to wear against the onslaught.

“We need to go— start walking back, I’ll clear the path!” He yelled back, swinging his sword wildly in an attempt to trip up his opponent. Somehow, it worked. An uneven pace was starting to form, stumbling backwards but keeping his enemies in a wide arc around him, a semicircle entrapping them but allowing them to inch towards the portal.

It was far though.

And he was beginning to tire.

Still, they clashed mercilessly.

“Wil! Ya need a switch?” Sweat was dripping down his brow, yet he dismissed Phil’s worry, wiping it from his forehead with a shake of his head.

“No— jus’—” he panted. “keep moving, dad!”

He proved his father’s concerns right as he stumbled, tripping to fall on his back. The thud caused Phil to spin swiftly on his heels, depositing Techno on top him. He ‘oof’ed in surprise, though he quickly adjusted, pulling Techno onto him.

His father plucked the sword from his hand, drawing his own from his sheath. 

Wilbur watched as he bared his teeth, wings bristling behind him.

“You fucked up by setting that trap. You fucked up coming after me. But you’ve  _ really _ fucked up by hurting my sons.”

Wilbur was beginning to see where Techno had gotten it from.

“So come fucking get some.”

—

Wilbur felt a deja vu that wasn’t his as he picked Techno up, grunting at the weight. He began walking backwards towards the portal, kicking the strays that Phil wasn’t taking care of. His blades were just whorls of blue and silver, some strange sort of adrenaline holding him up. Even with it, though, his movements were less than precise, and he relied mostly on his wings to keep him from stumbling back. They righted him if he tripped, keeping him facing forward and at their enemy.

Wilbur thought he might be feeling some twisted memory of his youngest brother’s. Dragging away a family member — in this case, carrying — while another fought hell to give you an opportunity to escape.

The sour taste in his mouth wasn’t helping his guilt, now.

His father was getting further and further away as Wilbur looked. He couldn’t tell if it was the distance playing tricks on his eyes, or if the blades were really visible, slowly parrying and slicing back.

“Dad!” He called.

He regretted the distraction a moment later.

When the blonde turned, panic in his eyes, checking on his sons, he missed a parry. The slash tore open his front, not shallow but not deep. The crimson that spilled from it almost made Wil ill, even as his father stemmed it with his sleeve. 

Mighty thrusts of his wings helped him flutter backwards, one sword dropped and left to the ground.

The blood left a trail in front of him as he stilled, heaving breaths and bent over.

“Dad..?” Wilbur ventured, unwilling to risk touching it and letting go of Techno, nor making it worse. 

A cough stopped him from moving forward, and his own iron sword clattered to the netherrack. 

“Portal, Wil.” He rasped. “Now.”

He obeyed. 

At least, until the blonde trembled, falling to his knees with another rattling cough. 

Wilbur watched blood drop to the red surface, steaming into mist.

“Hey.” He tried to be firm, though his voice wobbled with the single syllable. “You’re not allowed to leave yet. Get up dad.”

“Don’t know if—“ his sleeve came up to his mouth, face hidden from his view, and came away red. “—if I can, Wil. You have to go.”

“Arm.” He blurted around. “Around my shoulders. You’re not losing another son, and I’m not losing my  _ fucking  _ dad.” 

The wry chuckle that left him sounded more wet than dry.

“If I slow you down, you have to leave me. Promise.” Phil looked up at him, curling his arm around his shoulder when Wilbur bent over to offer it.”

“Promise.” The lie burnt his tongue. He didn’t think he could even if he tried.

They made pace towards the portal, but not quickly enough. Any advantage they had made on the mob of mobs didn’t seem to be enough; and they followed them relentlessly, although their numbers had thinned out a bit, bodies left to rot behind them.

Wilbur was tired.

His arms felt heavy; Techno’s deadweight only part of the problem. His shoulders ached from carrying his father’s weight, and the journey caused his legs to shudder and jitter in hyperextension and exhaustion.

He fell, again.

This time, Phil fell with him. He managed to keep Techno secure in his arms, although he wasn’t sure how much use it would be since he wasn’t sure he could stand. 

Phil seemed to understand that.

His breath came in ragged gasps behind Wilbur, though he still pulled him to his side, situating Techno between them and shielding his charges with his wings. 

Wilbur ignored the stickiness of blood from the two, trying desperately to catch his breath against the fatigue in his limbs and the burns catching the fabric over his arms.

“Fuck, Tommy.” Wilbur exhaled, staring at the vanes of his father’s feathers.

“I’m sorry.” Wilbur had the faint impression his father wasn’t just speaking to those present. His grip tightened around his sons. 

“Don’t be.”

Wilbur nearly had whiplash from how quickly he turned his head, peering out of their cocoon.

A lean figure clad in iron, bearing an insufferably familiar grin, and a gleaming, trustworthy iron sword.

“Look who’s here now, bitches!” He crowed, though his eyes swept over his family, obviously worried.

Wilbur’s jaw dropped.

“Tommy.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how we FEELIN’. tommy’s here, and so is,, a lot of blood
> 
> I’d love to hear your thoughts! if you didn’t read it earlier we chose option two due to your guy’s amazING SUPPORT AND COMMENTS I was floored by the amount i got it felt so very nice!!! I plan on responding to every single one of them very very soon 🥺🥺
> 
> as always, wherever you are, have a nice day.


	9. who cares if we’re giving up sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the world sees light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave you,,, gratuitous whump in the last chapter,,,, angst beyond measure,,,, and you guys requested mORE????? i mean
> 
> I’ll give you what you WANTED.
> 
> no but srsly I love it thanks for enabling me mwah  
> all your comments are MUSIC to my ears 
> 
> I have another important question though! look for it at the end of the chapter :D
> 
> enjoy <3

Tommy jumped into the fray like a bat out of hell. Unlike his battered, bruised elders, Tommy had been itching for a fight.

And a fight was exactly what he was getting.

He felt nimble despite the armor, dodging stray strikes and sweeping the legs out from under piglins, using his energy to his advantage. He whooped from behind a piglin, letting them crash into each other. 

He found he had quite the uncanny ability to start a war within a previously united faction. Though the fight was going his way, it caused the three previously huddled together to scatter, to avoid the few creeping closer to the edges to try and avoid the whirlwind. 

Tommy was  _ exhilarated. _ A type of righteous rage justified the carnage he wrought, but it certainly didn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy exacting every drop of revenge the pricks deserved. 

He was almost so involved that he nearly missed the warnings shouted at him from the sidelines.

As he turned, eyes wide, he saw a blur of pink, and felt a quick, sharp prick on his side, a poke into the chink of his armor. 

The sword that had run through Techno, and into Tommy, for Techno was not a mere poke. In return for the impalement, the pinkette had returned the favor with a vicious slash of his own against the piglin brute’s throat. It was messier than usual, Tommy noticed, with an unnatural dissociation. Not his cleanest work.

Tommy barely registered the fall of his brother’s body to the ground; nor did he remember the final few mobs dropping dead.

He did notice the blood, though.

—

Phil had lost his sons in the commotion; his pounding head struggled to keep track of the whirlwind that was Tommy, slicing though mobs like he was born into the fray. Even more concerning to him were his two injured sons; Tommy could handle his own, evidently.

But he could see neither Wilbur nor Techno.

He tried to stand, only for his vision to swirl, compounding in on itself like the vision of an insect. He ended up on all fours, knees and palm gaining imprints from the netherrack below him.

He pushed himself up to flop onto his back, turning in his continuing search for his charges. He caught the eyes of one over the din; Wilbur. He looked more focused than Phil himself felt, which was reassuring. 

“You have Techno?!” He called, though his voice was lost, gravelly in the face of the blood he had to choke back to speak. Thinking of the fact, his torso felt quite numb. 

Maybe he should’ve fixed that. 

He just barely made out a shake of ‘no’ as a piglin crossed his vision. 

His stomach cramped, a mix of pain and nerves that had his mind racing and his eyes tracing the horizon for a familiar head of pink hair.

That train of thought was interrupted by the sight of a piglin brute sneaking up behind his youngest son, a gleaming blade of gold in his paws.

He couldn’t make it there fast enough.

But he could at least try to warn him.

“Tomm’! Behind you!” He tried to vocalize, only to cough against the strain. He heard Wilbur call the same message, clearer against the chaos.

Techno came out of nowhere.

—

Wilbur was struggling. He’d had to part with his family as the child had entered the battle, scuttling away, limbs shaking with unease and exhaustion. Even still, he jittered, torn between stilling to ease the pain and moving to keep himself going, awake.

He got up onto his knees, using the small height advantage it awarded him to look for his wayward father and sibling.

The burns stretched against his skin, and he winced, even as he called their names.

He caught green eyes.

A question, mouthed, too quiet to be audible.

_...have Techno?! _

He shook his head, breathless. He had assumed one of them had managed to stay with the pinkette. Sending a glance to their earlier position, he noted the absence of one warrior brother.

His mouth dried.

A hoarse shout snagged his attention again. He echoed the message Phil had been trying to pass on, spotting the piglin a millisecond later.

Pink became red.

—

If he was being honest, Techno wasn’t really sure where he was.

All he saw was splotches of color, twisting and spinning like a fucked kaleidoscope, dizzying him even as he moved away. His instincts screamed at him unintelligible actions, commands, but his body obeyed nonetheless. He moved because he had to; not because of any conscious decision.

Those same instincts directed him to look for his sounder. His pack, his brothers, his father, his family. Even with his ears ringing and vision blurry, he could recognize them. Scent alone brought him to their visages; cedar and pie, guitar string resin and coffee, crackling fires and sharp citrus fruits. They were swamped by smells that caused his nerves to dance along knife’s edge; penny-metal, sour fear, confusion. 

He swayed as he stood, wiping one arm over his eye robotically. When he blinked again, the hazy film of red had mostly disappeared, even though the color patches stayed, if more distinct.

The world moved slowly. 

He moved fast.

_ Danger, danger, danger, not you, the shoat, help it. _

He had a blade. His hand wrapped around it.

His steps weren’t coordinated, but they brought him to his destination.

His intention wasn’t to take the sword for the shoat. He’d truly meant to disarm the piglin.

But if it kept Tommy safe, he would have done it a thousand times more. If it had kept any of them safe.

As it was, he missed. His blade scraped the jugular of the piglin open, sure.

But the pain of the sword persisted long after it should have.

When he looked down, the blade of it had sunken into him.

When he looked over his shoulder, the very tip had drawn the shoat’s blood, staining the white and red shirt pink.

Light had been steadily sifting in through the edges of his vision for a while.

He remembered the echo of his father’s face, another plane shifted oh so slightly down and to the right. Only the physical contact could ground him to the true sight.

So he clutched the handle of the sword, even as the hilt doubled in number, tripled, assured by touch that there was only one.

If Techno was being honest, seeing  _ hurt. _

—

The three watched as the son, brother, warrior, poet, king clutched the hilt of the sword. 

They watched as he stiffened.

Slumped.

Let go.

—

Silence reigned.

Then the emerald eyes of the totem in Techno’s pocket exploded.

And the

world

saw

_ light. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the feelings, hand them over.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Techno’s pov was quite fun to write honestly I kind of liked itttt
> 
> now the question!!!  
> I am going to keep updating this story obviously, but I would also like to work on something to occupy me in the meantime!
> 
> would you guys rather see:  
> 1\. angst request book with sbi/dt/lc etc!  
> 2\. Wilbur being attention starved one shot  
> 3\. other???
> 
> (I can do all of them, just let me know what you’d like to see first!!)
> 
> also this chapter was specifically for the people who were like ‘don’t hurt tommy!!!’ Okay ily I will hurt someone else more instead!!! :D <3
> 
> as always, thank you so much for the attention this has received. it really makes me :,D
> 
> as always. now and forever. wherever you are. have a nice day <3


	10. from damage i deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the totem of undying works magic. no one knows how said magic works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! sorry for the wait but I really wanted to keep you all in suspense for a bit >:D
> 
> no, legitimately, I did!
> 
> and in the meantime I also started another book that will be updating while I work on chapters for this one! you can find it on my profile — spoiler alert, it’s about possessed Phil ;) plenty of angst to go around! —
> 
> thanks for all your comments, I was WOWED at how many I got! which is why I responded to every single one!
> 
> and why ao3 didn’t register them.
> 
> I’m working my way back through them, sorry if it’s taking so long! I appreciate every single one of them!
> 
> without further ado, enjoy ;)

Somehow, the four of them had converged over Techno, a stumble, trip, crawl, drop that none of them remembered in the face of the situation.

“What the hell was that?!” Wilbur shouted, though the noise had subsided.

“Shh,  _ shh!”  _ Phil shushed him, hands moving from his temples to Techno. He pressed his fingers against the pinkette’s neck.

No pulse. 

He ignored the throbbing pain across his chest as he twisted to place his ear against the hybrid’s chest.

No heartbeat.

He watched.

No breath.

His sons seemed to recognize it as well.

Maybe that’s why Tommy screamed when eyes cracked open, red irises struggling to focus.

“Holy  _ shit!” _ He screeched, jumping.  _ “Techno?!” _

“What. The fuck.” He groaned. He tried to sit up on his elbows, only for them all to instantly push him back down to the ground. 

“You just got fucking _ impaled,  _ sit the  _ fuck down!” _ Wilbur yelled, practically pinning him down.

Phil set his head in his hands, taking deep breaths. Or, as deep as he could, based on the horrible rattling it was producing.

“What’s wrong with dad?” The hybrid question, seemingly unconcerned about the impalement.

“Yeah; what the fuck  _ is  _ wrong with dad.” Tommy chimed in. His gaze scoped over the two of them, earlier energy turned to solemn intent. 

“Did you just call him  _ dad?”  _ Wilbur gaped.

“Focus, boys, Techno, getting out of here.” He reminded them. The high of emotions he’d been going on had him running a bit low on both endurance and tolerance.

“Oh,” Tommy exhaled. He pulled two identical orbs out of his bag. They glowed faintly, deep blue-green. “I brought these.”

“You and Techno first, Tommy. Then Wilbur and I.” He coughed into his sleeve. 

“You’re kind of pale—“

_ “Tommy.” _

“Uh— right.” He passed one enderpearl to Wilbur, and grabbed Techno’s shoulder gently, winding his arm back until he lurched forward with the force of his throw. The younger blonde watched it arc, his grin small but visible. “Perfect throw.”

With a pop, they teleported out of sight.

“Us now.” Wilbur confirmed, repeating the action, albeit with less energy. 

“Mm—“ Phil hummed in response, trying not to choke on his own blood. That became a failed effort when he jolted, steps away from the portal. He swallowed it back, sure his face showed his disgust. “—l’sgo now.”

They stuffed themselves into the portal’s frame, watching as the red swirled and warped.

They all but collapsed out of the other side, lying back upon the roots of the birch tree.

“‘M. Fuckin’ destr’n’ it.” Phil muttered. The slur in his voice had become stronger, but it didn’t matter in the face of his task. The stream was nearby; he took a small pail of the clear water and with a weak underhanded heave, tossed it upon the misty surface.

It shattered harmlessly for the second time, water dripping from the empty obsidian box.

“‘P.” Phil commanded.

The brothers glanced at each other.

“What?” Tommy had the gall to ask. 

They stared at each other for a moment, green meeting blue. 

The world spun a bit. Dark feathers encompassed the borders of his vision, though his wings were folded behind him. 

Phil passed out before he’d even hit the ground.

—

Techno was the one to catch their father, staring at the dull red splotch across his front. He couldn’t make out the shape of it, really, but it seemed to go on forever against his chest.

“Techno!” Wilbur whisper-shouted. “You’ve just been impaled— wh—  _ how—“ _

The hybrid looked down at himself. 

“I feel fine.” He said, staring at the spot where the sword had been removed from him. At least, he assumed it had been there, because of the same dirtied red. 

When he prodded it, however, he found no wound. 

He felt better than ever, if not a little numb. His sense of touch felt dulled, as if his instincts lagged behind his fingers. His vision still hadn’t cleared, but he thought it secondary to the apparent problem of being impaled. He could see, anyway.

“What did Phil  _ give you.” _ Tommy wondered aloud. “I want some of that!”

“Speaking of Phil.” Wilbur had paled considerably as the interaction had progressed. “Maybe let’s, uhm, take him home. I’m not feeling swell either.”

Techno could smell the salt of sweat. He wrinkled his nose against it.

“Fever?”

“Yeah, I think  _ so— how are you doing that.” _

He shrugged.

He was wondering how he wasn’t screaming. The gravity of the situation hadn’t caught up with him yet, maybe.

He’d been dead.

His father was probably dying.

His brother was hurt.

His other brother was almost impaled.

He laughed aloud, a hysterical sound.

“Home. Now.” He commanded, suppressing his giggling. He felt his knees buckle a little, though he straightened against it, ignoring the sudden tremors across his body. 

“Yeah.” The other two echoed.

Three of them walked home.

At least the four of them were together, this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the feels. tell them to me.
> 
> the story isn’t quite done yet! ;) there’s definitely more to come
> 
> another reminder, the possessed Phil story has three chapters and a piece of art in it already if you’d like to check it out in the meantime! ;DD would mean a lot, and you might like it if you like my angst work!
> 
> anyway, wilbur angst oneshot is also coming, and perhaps angst request book! look out for those ;D
> 
> I appreciate every single comment, speculation, and overall observation that you guys put below! thank you so much to those who’ve commented, really makes my day!
> 
> sorry for the long notes today I just have things to say <4
> 
> as always, wherever you are, have a nice day

**Author's Note:**

> so how we feeling today boys ;D  
> comments are so appreciated, they really make my day! never be afraid to talk to me you could pour soup in my lap and I’d apologize!


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